•Hilda•

The stagnant, the still…

How my heart reaches for the romance of everyday life,

Golden mornings wrapped in sheets,

Chirps of August crickets at dusk,

The orange of old street lamps at midnight,

That which is the beauty of life,

The beauty of now.

A perfect shape, a perfect vase.

A vase for you, only for you.

Oh you hate flowers?

Hammer me then. Shatter me please.

For I am no use to you.

Maybe you can make a mosaic out of me,

How about a nice mural?

When I gaze upon your face.

How my breathing calms,

In your presence.

The beauty of your joy,

How your eyes smile too,

How your tension momentarily lifts,

In those moments of connection,

Those beautiful moments I’ve come to crave.

I wish I could hate you,

Yet I still seek your eyes in a room,

Eyes that meet mine in understanding,

Warm hazel, soft yet weary.

I look into your eyes,

And think of the decisions I made,

And the decisions I wish I made.

All the words I never said,

And all the words I wish I never said.